


Pin-Up Elf

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Grinding, Groping, Hair-pulling, Interrupted, M/M, Making Out, Mild Smut, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), Wall Pinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:06:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another drabble for tumblr kiss prompt: #1 - A hot, steamy kiss.</p><p>(I have embraced my shitty titles)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pin-Up Elf

“I can’t take much more of this…” Varlen sighed in exhaustion, shifting from foot to foot. “Do you know how many Orlesians have stepped on my foot while we’ve been dancing? I thought they were meant to be good at this sort of stuff. Unless they’re just doing to because I’m an…”

“Nonsense. I’m certain they were just…  _distracted_.” Dorian was quick to reassure Varlen, who he  _knew_  was a poorly concealed mess of anxiety. He had been afraid that he and his sister would be singled out for being Dalish. While this was certainly the inevitable case, Dorian would do everything in his limited power to attempt to convince Varlen otherwise.

“Distracted?” Those bright eyes flicked up to meet Dorian’s, tinged with confusion, and the mage nodded. Without realising, he drew his lower lip between his teeth, biting it softly as his eyes swept down Varlen’s form. He was a vision in royal blue, the pale sleeves the perfect match for the silver locks that tumbled down his back.

“Oh yes…  _most definitely_.” There was huskiness to his voice that Varlen picked up on instantly, and his cheeks flushed in response. He looked around quickly, swallowing hard, before returning his attention to Dorian. 

“Do you think…ah… there’s a  _room_  around the back of the building over there. Locked, but… that won’t stop me. I-If you’d…?”

“You go first; I will follow in a moment.” Dorian instructed sharply, his expression tight with restraint, and Varlen immediately hurried off, disappearing from sight around a shadowed corner. Dorian made a show of stretching languidly, casting a charming smile at one of the palace soldiers. Mercifully, he was distracted by a charming woman in a golden mask, her fan fluttering teasingly in the warm night air.

After waiting a moment, Dorian made his swift exit, ducking around the back of one of the buildings. He walked a few meters before spying a door, slightly ajar. With unwavering determination, he slipped in through the entrance, closing it behind him. The small room was lit only by a sole dim candle, and he instantly saw Varlen’s anxious form, bathed beneath its warm flicker. He glanced at Dorian, those soft lips parted slightly in anticipation.

“So… what do you—?”

Dorian could refrain for no longer – he crossed the room in half a breath, collecting Varlen on the way and pinning him hard against the far wall, crushing his mouth against the elven man’s with unrestrained need. Varlen let out a stifled yelp at the sudden barrage, but melted into it almost instantly, throwing his arms around Dorian’s neck and pulling him close, meeting the kiss with equal vigour. Punctuated by fervent growls, Dorian reached down, grabbing Varlen’s hips, hiking him up with firm hands. Varlen took the cue and wrapped his legs around Dorian’s waist, filling the mage’s mouth with his keening moan as Dorian pressed in even closer, grinding against Varlen, and forcing him hard against the wall.

“ _S-shit_ …” Varlen whimpered breathlessly when Dorian broke the kiss to drag in air, but he resumed without wasting a moment, this time driving his tongue into Varlen’s waiting mouth. Planting one hand firmly on the wall and the other on the back of Varlen’s neck, Dorian relished the taste of wine on his lover’s tongue, lavishing it with his own, acutely aware of the hands gripping the back of his shirt so tightly they might tear. Dorian wasn’t sure how long he held him like that, the elven man quivering beneath his hot breath, moaning with each sucking bite of his lips, awakening a hunger in Dorian that he had barely even  _glimpsed_  before, yet alone been overwhelmed by. The room suddenly felt oppressively hot, and Varlen groaned needily as a bell tolled in the distance, signalling the convening of the court. He grasped at Dorian’s muscular back with desperate fingers, but the mage drew away, breathless and sweating in the low-light, as flushed as Varlen, whose head was tilted back against the stone.

“It…  _ah_ …” Dorian gently released Varlen’s legs, now aware that he might have been holding him tight enough to bruise. Not that his lover seemed to mind at all. Dorian would tend to it later in apology. “… It appears our fun must be cut short, amatus.”

Varlen took a shaky breath, trying and failing to straighten in tunic with trembling hands, the fabric slipping from his tenuous grasp. Dorian chuckled, leaning forward, coaxing the outfit into a semblance of decency, before quickly running his fingers through Varlen’s tousled hair, combing it straight with the slightest of heat spells.

“Now, go on then. We will… continue this later.” Dorian said, walking over to the door, and he was about to open it when Varlen suddenly grabbed his arm, spinning him to plant another steamy kiss upon his reddened lips. Retreating with a breathy laugh, Varlen smirked at Dorian’s quizzically raised eyebrow.

“What? I have until the second bell."

 


End file.
